


The Touch Of A Human

by Still_beating_heart



Series: There's Not Much Left [3]
Category: Animal Kingdom (TV)
Genre: Depression, Dogs are great therapists, Heavy with a mostly light ending, M/M, Married Deran Cody/Adrian Dolan, Mentions of Smurf's specific brand of child abuse, Mentions of the canon things, Post-Season/Series 04, That still needs to be a tag
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-13
Updated: 2020-08-13
Packaged: 2021-03-06 01:54:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,289
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25885414
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Still_beating_heart/pseuds/Still_beating_heart
Summary: It isn't something that just goes away.  It fades.  It brightens.  It dulls.  And then it sharpens like a knife.  Slices through arteries and stabs him in the gut when he's least expecting it.It isn't a cycle he's able to break.  It isn't one he asked for.  It just is.  It's a part of him.  Like her hands, wrinkled and bent on his flesh at night.  Or like her voice whispering in his ears.  Of all his failures and all his worst traits.  It's her slithering up his back and twisting under his skin.  And she'll always be there.  No matter how long she's been in the ground.He carries these secrets, hoards them like gems or banknotes or paper dollars and gold bricks.  He locks them away in a vault, or a storage unit, or a safe in the dusty bar backroom.  These things that have shaped him.  That have sharpened his bones and dulled his smile.  He used to be able to carry them.  On his own.  He used to be able to set them there, in the darkness and forget them.  Let them get rusty, let the hinges squeal to him in his nightmares but never caress the tip of his tongue.
Relationships: Deran Cody & Adrian Dolan, Deran Cody/Adrian Dolan
Series: There's Not Much Left [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1885414
Comments: 6
Kudos: 30
Collections: Animal Kingdom ▶ Deran Cody / Adrian Dolan





	The Touch Of A Human

**Author's Note:**

> In case you and I have Smurf interpreted differently, then know that I mean sexual abuse, physical abuse, and emotional abuse when I say Smurf's specific brand of child abuse. So beware those land mines. 
> 
> This is part of the There's Not Much Left universe, but you don't need to read that to get this. They're in Indonesia (right? Now I don't remember) with their dog, Grommet, and their mostly happy life. They're married and love each other, have unpacked a lot of their old baggage and sorted through it together, but there will always be some parts of Deran that won't magically disappear, will always be his background noise that sometimes comes to the foreground.

It isn't something that just goes away. It fades. It brightens. It dulls. And then it sharpens like a knife. Slices through arteries and stabs him in the gut when he's least expecting it.

It isn't a cycle he's able to break. It isn't one he asked for. It just is. It's a part of him. Like her hands, wrinkled and bent on his flesh at night. Or like her voice whispering in his ears. Of all his failures and all his worst traits. It's her slithering up his back and twisting under his skin. And she'll always be there. No matter how long she's been in the ground. 

He carries these secrets, hoards them like gems or banknotes or paper dollars and gold bricks. He locks them away in a vault, or a storage unit, or a safe in the dusty bar backroom. These things that have shaped him. That have sharpened his bones and dulled his smile. He used to be able to carry them. On his own. He used to be able to set them there, in the darkness and forget them. Let them get rusty, let the hinges squeal to him in his nightmares but never caress the tip of his tongue. 

Words that fail him. Words that manage to make it to the tip of his tongue only to fall away. Jumble and rise to mist. Dissipate as soon as Adrian's wishing well eyes land on him and he can't bear to hurt him again with his pain. With the things she's done to Deran that Adrian has worn the bruises for.

"What?" Adrian asks sometimes, setting a mug of coffee in front of him. Or putting down his phone to give him his undivided attention. Or leaning against his surfboard as the sun throws gems through the surface of the water behind him. 

"I love you," is the only thing that ever comes out. Like maybe he can say it enough times to erase every wrong from the past. 

Like maybe he can say it enough times to hear Adrian's response, "I love you too," and his gentle smile to imprint itself in every lobe of Deran's brain so he can latch onto that, he can latch onto Adrian's carefree happiness and that only every time she rises in his mind. Every time her cold hand digs it's way out of the grave and grasps at his ankles and slides up his thigh.

Adrian's hand slips through his hair, tilting his head back, lips to forehead. Like he knows anyway. He knows. He always has. So Deran doesn't say it. He never says it. 

\----------

It's a wound that festers. Under his skin. It itches. He scratches it until it bleeds. Then he smears that blood along his skin and lets it dry there. Watches it turn from red to brown before he washes it down the drain.

But it never heals. It never goes away. It aches at night. It whispers his name from the kitchen, it sits on the edge of his bed and wonders, 'Deran, baby, what's wrong?'. And he rolls to his side to face Adrian instead. It gets replaced by his gentle breath and his warmth. It gets overrun by the presence of him. But it's still there. Lurking. Like a shadow that no amount of daylight can vanquish.

\----------

It's never a sudden thing. It's never going to bed one night and just not getting back out of it the next day. It's not a choice. It's not a plan. 

It's a tug. It always starts as a tug. As a quiet pull that exhausts him. That makes his joints weak and his muscles burn. It's the whispers at first. The reminder that no one loved him. No one wanted him. All he was worth was six hundred and a bag of smack. 

It's muck. The muck that grips to the bottom of his shoes on his walk to work. That pulls the soles of his shoes down until the tops of his feet are covered. Sinking further as the day drags on. As the week drags on. As the endless washing of the ocean waves against the shore becomes a dull echo in his mind. As the chatter of tourists and bar patrons start to throb in his ears and stab into him to make him wince. 

By the time he trudges home and the muck has fully encased him, it's all he can do to make it to the bed. To lie down and sink. Fully give way to the pull of gravity and everything she left for him. 

\----------

Adrian never asks. Never pokes. He's patient. In ways that Deran doesn't deserve.

But he feels him there. Sitting beside his back. A hand through his hair. One that couldn't feel less like hers. But it makes his skin twist anyway. Adrian sighs, and admits, "I called in for you. But I have to go to work," as he backs away and pats the bed to coax Grommet up onto it.

Deran doesn't respond. Adrian doesn't expect him to. 

Maybe by tomorrow. Or the next day. Or the day after. He'll be able to shake her. The feel of her. And the sound of her. He'll be able to climb out of bed and shower her off his skin. He'll be able to untangle her fingers from his hair. He'll be able to move without her walking behind him and reminding him. 

Maybe by then. 

\----------

Deran watches his hand on the dog's neck. Golden fur. Tan hand. A wedding band. Older now. Old enough that he's used to wearing it. It's a part of him. One he chose. Maybe the only one he chose who chose him back. 

He watches the way Grommet's fur tangles around his fingers when he combs through it. He closes his eyes and hears her groan. She stretches and rolls over so she's flush to his chest. 

The touch of a human, any human, would make him crawl. But the softness of her fur, and the gentle lull of her breathing. It's different. 

"I thought it was normal," he tells Grommet quietly, "when I was little. You know, I thought it was normal. She did it to all of us. We all thought it was normal. It wasn't until," his voice chokes off. Pinching his eyes shut for a moment to fight the images rising. He swallows, opens them and watches his hand on Grommet's golden coat, watching the wedding band as it gets overtaken by rust colored hair on her shoulder, "Julia. She figured it out. It was when I was fourteen. And I heard her yelling at Smurf. She kept saying it's not right. And you're ill. She kept telling Smurf she was ill. And it wasn't her fault but it wasn't right. It needed to stop. I didn't know," his voice chokes off again.

Grommet lifts her head, sets it down on his shoulder and watches him with devotion. She doesn't know what he's saying, or what he means, or why he's been lying here in bed for two days now. Why it's too hard to get up. To keep moving through the muck. Why it feels like he's sinking. 

"I convinced myself for a long time that it was all a bad dream. That it was all some figment of my imagination or something. That it never happened."

He twists one of her curls around his finger, watches as his ring slips towards his knuckle to reveal a tan line, "I hated touching people. And I hated them touching me. Women repelled me. Their soft hands and their soft curves and their slight frames."

His skin tingles and a lead brick falls away into his stomach, sinking to the bottom until he takes a deep breath and wills it away, "Adrian. He was different. I liked touching him. The way his skin felt, the way his muscular frame felt. The sturdiness of him. But I hated myself for it. I couldn't admit it. Admit that I was different. That I was somehow less than my brothers. That she'd never love me if I was gay. She'd never love me," he repeats it with a trembling voice. Takes a deep breath and forces it out, "even though I knew. I knew she never loved any of us. But she had us on a chain. We were under her thumb. Always."

When he blinks, a tear falls and he lets it, "She made me hate wearing my own skin. And I took it out on Adrian. For so long. Jesus, I don't know how he loves me. Why he kept coming back. Why he kept letting me back in," the hand that isn't resting on Grommet rises and he covers his face with it. Letting the salty liquid well in his eyes, and slip down his face freely. 

************

It feels weird to walk home alone after work. Usually Adrian has Deran or Grommet or both of them with him at the end of the shift. Grommet has become quite the celebrity around the resort. The surfing dog. 

It's been an adjustment to be away from Oceanside, away from family. But he's here. He's alive. And he has Deran. So he has all he needs. A job he enjoys, a husband he loves, and a companionable dog who is always waiting at the gate for him whenever he leaves her home. But not today. She's not there today. 

Adrian walks quietly through the gate. Sets his surfboard down soundlessly when he hears Deran's voice wafting through the open windows. His voice is strained and muted. It's shaky. Adrian has to lean towards the window to hear the words. Words that he knows weren't meant for him to hear. But he listens anyway. Because he knows, someday Deran will find the courage to speak them directly to Adrian. He knows he will. Someday he'll be strong enough, and he'll understand that no matter what, no matter what she's done to him, Adrian will always love him and accept him. 

There are things he's known about Deran for a long time. He's known Deran nearly his entire life. And he has two eyes. And two ears. And it's not hard to tell when there's something different about a person when he's spent so much of his life with him. Adrian has watched him pull away plenty of times, pull away and hide within himself. He's watched him build a shield between them. And he's allowed him to do it. Knowing it was something Deran needed. He needed tp push Adrian away sometimes. He needed to keep himself safe from the outside world just as much as he needed to keep Adrian out of his world. 

There are things Adrian knows. But it'll never be easy to hear them.

He waits until he's certain Deran is done talking. He's silent for ten minutes ,aside from the hitched breaths and the whispered, "you're a good girl Grom," that's muffled. Probably against her fur.

He waits until his legs have grown numb under him. And then he swings the gate shut with enough noise to announce his presence. Because no matter how long they're here, living this life of their own. No matter how much distance is between Deran and his past, he will be forever vigilant. So Adrian whistles, the usual one they use. The one they've used since they were kids and Deran was just a shadow under the Pier at night. The one they've always used to warn the other they were coming, or they were home, or it was just them when it was a world full of others. 

Now the whistle sends the dog's tail into a wild thump against the bed, but she doesn't abandon her Deran for anything when he needs her. So Adrian approaches the bed, scratching her chin first, then daring to meet Deran's eyes. They're red-rimmed, it tears through Adrian's chest to see that even if he was expecting it. 

He doesn't ask Deran if it's okay to touch him yet, if it's okay to crawl in next to him and breathe with him while everything that's tangled begins to untangle. While the light inside of him starts to part the darkness that's been settled around him. 

He doesn't ask. He simply kicks off his flip-flops and lies down. He lies down on the opposite side of Grommet. Places his hand on her shoulder where Deran can see it. And waits. 

He waits. And he watches Deran's eye, the one that he can see over the crease of the pillow and the dog's head between them. The eye that's been tracking Adrian since he walked in. The eye that Adrian has always loved looking at, floating on, and sinking in. Ever since they were kids. He loves looking at those eyes the most when they're twinkling. When they're brighter than the sun off the crest of a wave. But he loves them when they're dark and still too. He loves them. Because he loves Deran. He always has. 

And he'll always wait. He'll always wait because he knows. He knows that eventually Deran's hand will rise. His hand will rise and entwine fingers with fingers. He'll feel the metal of Deran's wedding band and know that they'll be together no matter what. No matter what. No matter what life throws at them. No matter what Smurf's ghost drags Deran down with. No matter what part of their past comes darting out of the shadows to swallow them whole. They'll have each other. They'll always have each other. And nothing else will ever matter as much as that.

**Author's Note:**

> I promise I'll write a fluff piece at some point for these two. Maybe an anniversary one-shot or something. We need to make the married tag for these two a real tag, so I'm going to make that my goal :) 
> 
> Thanks friends. Leave kudos, comments, and support. Take care of yourselves.


End file.
